


Birth of a Goddess

by AfflictedwithAlliteration



Series: The Life of a Goddess [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Combination of Comics and Mythology and MCU, Drama & Romance, Fake Marriage, Fake marriage turned real, Frigga (Marvel) Knows All, Loki before he goes full asshole, Multi, Non-linear vignettes style writing, Not Canon Compliant, Not slow burn but slow to actual feelings, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, POV Second Person, Pre-Thor (2011), Reader is Sigyn, Reader-Insert, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2019-07-01 07:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15769620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AfflictedwithAlliteration/pseuds/AfflictedwithAlliteration
Summary: You were simply on you marriage tour, it wasn't meant to go this way but the Norns seemed to enjoy toying with you at every turn.





	1. So it begins

**Author's Note:**

> Sigyn isn't in the MCU so I decided to add her as the reader. She'll be a mix of what I know of her myth wise and how she is in the comic as well as whatever I've decided, though this is obviously not canon compliant it will follow the movies. It is also going to focus heavily on Sigyn/the Reader themselves and their adventures, as opposed to the actual happenings in the movies. This first segment will focus on Sigyn gaining her powers and falling for Loki. I'm basing the timeline off the movie release date of Thor, I only mention this because I wrote this story and will continue writing it in non-linear format, and written as snippets rather than a whole. The rest following will follow standard format but this was fun to write like this. I have about four to more chapters in mind I move onto Thor (2011) :D

_Year 2000, Day 210_

Most tales begin before the happy ending. 

The happily ever after implied at the end but this is not how your tale goes. Your tale begins where most should end, with a marriage and the implication of bliss after. But you know that isn’t true because there will be no bliss even if there is a marriage. Maybe, you think, there could be tolerance but as you watch your fiancé sidle away to dance with yet another woman while he has yet to give you more than a perfunctory hello you find it hard to believe. 

You refuse to let it get to you even as you sip your eighth glass of wine. Neither of you asked for this but you had thought neither you nor Theoric had minded. At least, he’d acted if he hadn’t. Now you wondered if the pressure of that day made your fiancé agree to something he regretted or if he blamed you for the idea.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 200_

“We will not tolerate—“

“ _You_ won’t tolerate?! We—“

“That is enough.” The words are quiet but they ring through the tiny hall as if they were shouted and you flinch from your chair. There is a copper tang in the air, you wish your father had had time to change out of his armor before the All Father had come but the Norns were not on your side today either. You only hoped it would not end with both their heads on a pike as you warily glanced at the weapons the warriors carried, the princes looking formidable, their allies layering the outside of the room as oppressive guards. Their weapons are far too clean and their faces look as though they would love their blades to be as dirty as your fathers.

As slowly as possible you stand and inch toward you father, ever the peacemaker and catch Theorics’ eyes across the room as you do so. His own eyes are wide, mirroring your fear and the question that rang in your mind. Had you done the right thing requesting aide?

* * *

_Year 200, Day 210_

By your tenth drink the room blurred enough to make it feel like your dancing, as did the swooping sensation in your gut. He had, at the least, not done anything strange, coming to talk with you between dances to save face. You still wanted to strangle him. As inconspicuously as possible you wandered toward the nearest pillar and leaned on it as you swirled glass number eleven. 

“How has no one asked such a gorgeous creature to dance?” You knew his face but not could not place a name to it, his striking features catching your eye before recognition flashed in his. Your lips, which you hadn’t realized had been pressed so tightly together spread into a wide false smile that fooled no one.

“I believe they just have.” 

Most people would not wish to step on toes but most people were not part of the princes’ guard. You wondered if he’d resend his invitation but his eyes grew brighter, fingers plucking your glass away before he whisked you to the floor. 

“It seems you have been neglected.”

“Yes, and if you dance any faster you’ll see how much.” 

He immediately slowed, grip tightening around your waist more than was proper but you were grateful for the support and that he wouldn’t allow you to make a bigger fool of yourself than your husband-to-be was. 

“I do not believe we’ve been formally introduced. I am Fandral of the Warriors Three.”

“Sigyn of the Sigurd, though I suppose it will soon be of the Isles.”

“Ah, then your betrothed is Theoric of Marmora Isle.” You nod, unwillingly to verbally agree in your ire as Fandral spins you expertly. A shocked giggle escaping you before he catches you with a wink, “You do yourself more justice when you smile.”

“Perhaps I would smile if my fiancé would dance with me as you do.”

That brings silence that almost makes you regret your words. So much regret has followed this whole endeavor.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 200_

“A ceasefire?”

“Yes.”

Your mother responds softly.

“Father, that is not necessarily a bad thing.” You hedge, well aware of his feelings on the matter, “We waste so many resources between here the Isles, its been seven years. Don’t you think—“

“You did this.” The words are flat and you hastily take a step back, your mother coming to your aide. 

“Not just Sigyn dearest, myself as well. I grow wary of your endless battles. We are small, even if you should conquer the Isles we could not run them from here.” Your mother waves her hands at you when your father turns away, a dismissal so she may soothe his temper. The look you give her says she had best soothe it quick for the All Father had given them only an hour to make a decision or be swallowed under Asgardian rule.

Outside the rooms you looked for a familiar head of hair before flicking your eyes to the doors then heading outside. You shiver in the cool air until a jacket is dropped on your shoulders, Theoric smiling wanly at you. 

“This has not gone to plan.”

“You think? He still thinks he can have the Isles and we’re running out of time. The soldiers will not stand down without his say but he refuses, he’d rather they all die for their pride.”

“My father calls it belief.”

“They’re both fools.” You spit out viciously, “Do they even know how many of our own have fled? The people are practically half dead and they still—“

His hand covers your mouth as he is want to do when your voice raises, “Do you wish us to be caught?”

“What difference does it make now?” You mutter around his fingers then shove his hand away when he simply glares at you before he sighs.

“I have an idea.” Impatiently you wave a hand for him to continue and he frowns at you before continuing as you shiver in the jacket, ready to go inside and face your fate, “Your father wants the Isles, what if we give them to him?”

“Your father would surrender?”

“…not exactly.” He murmurs, eyes meeting yours and you can see what he has in mind. Its not the cool air that catches your words this time. He can’t be serious.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 210_

“How have I embarrassed you?!” You hiss into the night, glancing longingly at the the doors to the party. Why must your conversations always be outside in the cold? And this time there is no offered jacket, the sweat of too much alcohol cooling your skin too rapidly. 

“Fandral? Of all the men for you to dance with, you pick the one known for bedding every wench from here to Hel!”

“It was a dance, Theoric, same as all yours from tonight. It means nothing, unless you mean to imply that yours meant something?” 

“Don’t you twist my words.” He snarls and you sigh, unable to summon the nights earlier ire. 

“I don’t wish to start like this, and I’m far too tired to argue. Go and dance, tell them I’m tired, and for the love of the Gods, do not make it seem like it is a big deal. We are fostering peace, not pettiness. I suggest you remember that.”

The words are curt and he glares at you, “Your words won’t save you every time.”

“Do not threaten me, Theoric. Have your dances and be done with this. I want it no more than you so kindly take heed we do not undo all that we’ve done or are you volunteering to lead the next hoard on a pointless battle?!”

With a slump of his shoulders he turns on his heel and flees back to the party, leaving you to the night air and your fraying nerves. You know it is nerves that eat away at you both but you miss the easy companionship of before and wonder if it will ever come back.

* * *

_Year 1999, Day 340_

“Theoric!” You quickly grip his hand and whisk him deeper into your rooms, shooing the maid away with a gaze that would burn the suns, “What are you doing here fool?!”

“My father will be here tomorrow morning to lay siege. Thought you’d like to know.”

“And a letter wouldn't suffice?” You sighed out, sitting on your bed with your head in your hands, “This battle will go to your father. Mine is out scouting, he has half the troops with him but I can still have mother evacuate the outer villas.”

He sits beside you, falling back onto your bed and gazing at the ceiling before speaking slowly, “I could help—“

“You could not unless you want your had on a pike, don’t be stupid.”

With another sigh you peel your hands from your face then begin to tell him of your fathers plans when he returns until you both fall asleep on your bed. Theoric only leaving once you’ve both eaten dinner and promised to speak again tomorrow.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 210_

“It is far too cold to be out here without a shall.” You jump, thoughts shrieking to a halt as a warm, sharp scented cloth falls across your shoulders. It is unfamiliar but in your haze you still think it is Theorics. “I told you to go back—Prince.”

The words slip from your slips with a hiss, quickly dropping into a curtsey and mentally cursing your wobbling legs, “I didn’t—“

“I’m not offended to be assumed as your fiancé.”

Its the alcohol that makes such a line flush your cheeks, it has nothing to do with how he wears the darkness like a cloak or the brightness of his eyes. The Odinson Princes are much spoken of but the words do not hold a candle to their looks or any of their warriors. 

“We thank you and the All Father for hosting our small ceremony.” You say awkwardly, unsure of how to converse with him. Fandral, while one of their warriors, was still just a warrior. This was a prince and one wrong word would be your head. Especially with prince Loki who was warned to be the most vindictive of the group. 

“Such formality,” his eyes crinkle at the edges, softening his features until you distrust it for the glimmer in his eyes is sharper now, “You may call me Loki.”

“As you wish, pr—Loki.” 

“Now tell me, why are you out here when the party is in there? I fear you’ve left poor Fandral broken hearted.”

You can’t fight the urge to roll your eyes, “I’m sure another wench can mend it by the nights end.”

His laughter is sharp and loud in the night, cutting through it and reminding you that you are alone with the Odinson. Unattended while your fiancé dances inside with another slew of woman. “How cruel you are.”

“You think too highly of me.” You retort drily before answering his earlier question, “But perhaps I will grace him with another dance when I’ve walked off some of this drink. I find Asgardian wine to be stronger than I’m used too.”

“Ah,” His gaze is calculating but he seems disinclined to react to your tentative dismissal and gestures ahead, “I was sure it was the several glasses you’d consumed as you watched Theoric dance with everyone but you.”

Theres a sharp inhale as you remind yourself that he is your prince and that is all that stops you from slapping him and placing a placid smile on your face instead, “If I had consumed so much alcohol then I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to remember.”

His teeth flash in the dark before he holds out an arm, “Well, such a impaired maiden shouldn’t be left unattended. The gentlemanly thing to do would be to escort you back to your waiting husband-to-be.”

“And you are such a gentleman?” You bite out, annoyed at the prospect of going back but the smile only sharpens. 

“I believe I said it was the gentlemanly thing to do, not what I would do.”

That gets a startled laugh out of you as you cautiously link your arm through his thinking you need to stop following handsome young men in the dark.

* * *

_Year 1996, Day 60_

The walls are on fire but you don’t dare to scream, simply scooping more water into the buckets and tossing it in hopes it will quell the flames as others run by screaming. Soon you’ll have to join them. You are running out of water and many have already given up, you mother long since gone to help people find places for the night. But this was your home and you can’t bare to watch every memory become ash. 

But the smoke stings your eyes, pushing out tears your’d been holding back until the bucket slips from your fingers. Its only when a rush of soldiers comes out of the smoke that your tears dry up. For a moment you think it's yours, it gives you no time to run when you recognize him too late. You try to cry out but his hand is over your lips before the sound can escape. And in the chaos of the attack the Prince of the Isles has stolen you.


	2. So it continues

_Year 2000, Day 215_

“Traitor!”

The word rings out in a familiar voice as you turn. It's not possible, you know it and yet another Theoric stands at the end of the hall and it's with horror you realize your mistake. Yet you are unable let go of Lokis’ hands, clenching them tighter in shock.

“Loki…Loki what have you done?”

“What needed to be done.”

“You dare!” Theorics voice is a thunderous rage, much like the All Fathers face as the shouting begins, accusations flying. The urge to flee is strong but there would be nowhere to run. 

“This is too much brother!”

“The Isles were not good enough for you! She tried to poison me!”

“What?! That was—“ The words stick in your throat, more shouts echoing until Loki squeezes your hands back, a crooked smirk on his face before you’re both gone. The echoing shout of anger from the All Father ringing in your ears along with Lokis’ delighted laughter. 

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 211_

“Where were you last night?”

You blink too quickly, a tell-tale giveaway but no less revealing than his own so you refuse to feel sorry for the lie, “I went to bed early. Asgardian wine is stronger than our own it would seem.”

“…so it would. I do not even remember returning.”

“Nor do I. A mistake we won’t make again,” you say carefully, linking your arms as you prepare to greet the others for breakfast, argument being cautiously set aside in favor of saving face, “at least I hope we won’t?”

“Nothing will steal me away from you this morning.”

“Such thick flattery will get you everywhere, Theoric.” You say with a roll of your eyes, things settling back into place tensely as you enter the breakfast hall. But you're surprised to find not only food and your families but the royal family as well. 

“Forgive us our lateness, All Father.”

Theoric manages to tug you down as you stare stupidly for a moment too long, echoing his sentiment and cursing the fact that the only available seats for you two are the place of honor between the princes and their father. 

It makes for awkward conversation. For Loki is silent and avoiding you with a calculated falseness that has Theoric shooting daggers in his direction while Thor seems at a loss for what to speak aside from tiresome battles and forced flattery. Your fiancé has better luck, conversing with the All Father, the words you try to hear too soft for you to catch. 

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 215_

Its beautiful. 

Heartbreakingly so and it's fitting because your heart is shattering even as the All Father stand before you, giving you what you’d so readily asked for. The soft breeze brings the ringing sound of congratulations, faces reflected off the gleaming white pillars in happiness so there is no reason to stop the tears as they flow. None would be the wiser to their true reason. 

Not even Theoric.

Theoric, who you’d always known was handsome but had never noticed the hard lines of want that mirrored your fathers. It takes all your effort not to glance to the drinks you’ll share, and instead focus on your hands wound around each others. Companionship, it seemed, was indeed too much to ask for.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 213_

“She’ll drink the cup.”

“Will she?”

“Father, she suspects nothing. And when she dies both are ours! This farce ends and we lose no more soldiers, as I said.”

“Such a weak heart—“

It's only now you realize you care for him, only now you realize why its always hurt so much to watch him with anyone else. Now you wish he caught a disease from one of them that would end him before your own hands wrapped around his throat and—

“Dearest! There you are! Come sit with us.”

The smile that blooms on your face is radiant because you can feel the burn of anger in your cheeks as you call out with false cheer. Your father had always said you flushed prettily and it adds to the illusion of happiness as you sit and chat. The words ring in your ears leaving you to wonder if you were meant to hear them after all. You hoped Theoric was warning you. Hope, upon hope, upon hope. 

You were always hoping.

Hoping for war to stop.

Hoping for someone to marry and love.

Hoping for some semblance of balance.

Hoping that your fiancé wasn’t a traitor to all you’d worked for.

And hoping that your death wasn’t the best plan after all.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 210_

It looks like no part of the garden you’d seen in the day, in fact, as you turn you realize the party hall is quite farther away than it should be. “Prin—Loki, what have you done?”

“Given us a better view.” He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, releasing you to wave to the expense of land, “If your eyes were better you would see that your forest lies in this direction.”

You should scold him, want to scold him but instead you find your eyes burning. You feel a sudden desperate wave of homesickness but you tamp it down. Proud of the steel you put into your expression to gaze the prince as blankly as possible.

“Is this meant to make me drop my dress?”

“Does it not?”

“Even you will have to try better than this, my prince, I am an engaged woman.” The words are mocking and teasing, allowing you to push down on the suddenness of your emotions, even if his face says he does not believe you.

“Ah, true love then. I cannot stand in its way.”

“Hardly—ah, that is hardly incorrect.”

But the silence that follows says you’ve given yourself away. And though you don’t wish to be apart of the princes games, for you’ve heard the tales, you fear you’ve just fallen right into them and curse your drunken tongue. Strangely he pushes no farther, raising your suspicions more as he begins to walk, speaking and beckoning you to follow. 

“My brother is courting the Lady Sif.”

“A fine warrior pair, I wish them luck.”

“Do you?”

“Don’t you?” You retort as you begin to follow him as if you cannot help yourself, smiling slightly when he replies with the same tartness.

“My brother does not appreciate my fine lies.”

* * *

_Year 1996, Day 60_

“Why have you brought me here? When I am found, your heads will roll.”

“No need for such threats, I’ve come in peace.”

You sneer, though your heart feels like a rabbits, “Peace is kidnapping me?”

“How else would we have spoken? When we are dead? Or during the next peace meeting?”

His words, though sharp and sullen are not false. This doesn’t mean you trust him but it does pause you from launching your body at his face to claw out his eyes and rip his lying tongue from his lips. With a sigh you nod, “Speak then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I started this I didn't realize how non-linear it would be. I'm basically writing the story as it pops into my head. I have a basic outline of what I'm doing but thats why its like non-linear vignettes. It probably won't be truly readable till I'm done. Whoops. But I hope you've enjoyed this little foray and hopefully it goes better than my last multi-chap work ;) Let me know if you have any questions or if I made any glaring errors, re-reading the same thing over and over makes me miss errors.


	3. And so punishment is dealt

_Year 2000, Day 213_

“What will you do?” He asks, sitting beside you and staring into the same distance. It’s almost comforting but your heart still thuds anxiously with the news you're trying to process. You hadn’t had much time to think but you knew there was only one answer, in that sense Theoric was not wrong. No matter what he’s done you won’t sacrifice so many for you. And you know to come clean would be doing just that and the stone that has been in your gut for days finally shrinks as you look to Loki resolutely.

“Exactly as I have said. I will marry Theo—the Prince of the Isles.” Saying his name brings a sour feeling in the pit of your gut, its petty satisfaction to reduce him to nothing more than a title. 

“You will die.” He responds tersely and you roll your eyes.

“They said you were witty, I had not assumed they meant simply pointing out the obvious. But when Thor is your brother, I suppose that is of the utmos—“

“Hold your tongue!” The words are snapped out, your lips gluing themselves together as you shoot a poisonous glance to Loki who looks just as irate. “Do you think yourself a martyr?”

Unable to speak you can do little else besides shake your head in protest as the prince stand, hands clasping behind his back. By now you know that stance, in the few days you’ve been here it’s one you see too often. You try to mime to him you have no need of his charity and fear any sort of plan he could come up with but he won’t look at you and you still can’t speak.

“I hadn’t thought as much…do not worry your pretty head, I’ll handle it.”

He’s gone before you can protest, the little bastard having left your lips sealed shut.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 215_

The question had rung out thunderously, demanding you give reason for your actions. Theoric is standing near the All Father, gaze accusing and a little smug. It’s that look that makes your back straighten, lifting your full gaze up and refusing to blink. “I asked him to do it, All Father, I do not ask forgiveness, only that the people be spared and you hold them to their peace treaty.”

“You have no right to ask anything of me.” You flinch at this but hold his gaze, tears filling your eyes and hoping he does not mean to— “But I will agree to leave your people out of the matter.”

The sigh of relief that escapes you is far too loud and flushes your cheeks, even more so when Loki storms into the room.

“What have you said?” He snaps, shaking you roughly.

“Stopped you from making an idiot of yourself.” You hiss back, shrugging out of his loose grip, “I’ve said nothing that is a lie.”

“You think I do not know a lie? _Me?_ ”

“Enough!” 

The All Fathers voice is sharp, brining your and Lokis gaze back to him, and he looks highly unamused. Theoric takes the silence to speak.

“I demand punishment.”

“And you will have it.”

You heart stutters in your chest even ask Loki sidles closer to you, almost protective but more likely to keep you from getting you both into more trouble.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 211_

The halls are immense. Nothing like the small closed halls of your own home. For all their warriors you still think they are bold to have such huge pillars that offer no protection save the roof for the elements. It makes a wondrous view though, especially in the early mornings. It makes you wish to be home even though you know it’ll be a year or more before you’re there again. You wonder if the view at sea will be as pretty when a shadow creeps at your side. 

“You seem to make a habit of wandering off alone.”

“And you seem to make a habit of following me.” 

“It is my castle, it is my duty to know who noses in my halls.”

You finally face Loki incredulous, unable to keep your gaze being cold, “I am _not_ being nosey!”

“And that,” he leans down to tap your nose condescendingly, “sounds much like a guilty conscious.”

* * *

_Year 1996, Day 60_

It’s foolish to trust him. He is the enemies child, and this can only end badly but as he walks you back to camp you think it just may work. Theoric has his own forces it seems, as do you. Together perhaps you can quell both your parents into peace. 

At the very least you can tentatively appreciate having a like mind to bounce ideas off of and the intel to help with your home. When you get close enough that you can make it back without assistance you glance at the prince.

“I will take your offer into consideration.”

“I can ask no more than that.”

You smirk a bit, “Oh, you already have asked more than that.”

He splutters in the darkness but you continue on, hearing your name ring out among those searching the ruins for the dead and hurry before they draw conclusions.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 13_

Though you’d both agreed to not repeat the first night in the halls of Asgard, Theoric can only spare you one dance before he putters off for the evening. You want to be angry but it’s a tired discussion, you might as well let him enjoy it before you begin the long trek to his home. But that doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy yourself either. 

This time you restrain yourself to two glasses and allow the other woman to drag you to the floor, spinning until your eyes see nothing but swirls of color. You could very well fall until lean arms grab your waist, spinning you faster then pulling you in close enough to catch sight of the bright green eyes. 

“Loki!”

He continues to whisk you around and you laugh as your hair spins free of the pins, they scatter across the hall, crunched underneath uncaring feet your fellow dancers. 

“Is this the first time you’ve danced?”

Lokie teases as you stumble, stomach swirling along with your dress, “You know it isn’t but this is the first time my partner wishes to make a mess of me before we leave the floor.”

The words are teasing but you watch a whole new fire burn in his eyes as he pulls you closer than necessary with a swiftness that leaves your dress bunched at your knees and legs scraping against the rough leather of his pants.

Before either of you can do something stupid you feel thinner graceful arms, and see Loki fling back his head and laugh as another young woman pulls you into an all female dance circle. This time you lose your shoes.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 215_

It takes a moment for the words to make sense, and when they do you feel all the blood drain from your face. Loki does not look much better. 

“What?” He hisses out but you can’t speak yet, too stunned and watching the growing rage on Theorics face. 

“Your punishment, my son, is that you will stay married and you Sigyn.” He pauses, “And you who would break bonds and oaths so easily shall be bound to your oaths indefinitely.”

When he is finished speaking, he slams his spear down, his words final and ringing in your very bones. It leaves you trembling, ready to fall to your knees as the chaos erupts once again the hall. Theorics voice the loudest of all.


	4. Even consequences have consequences

_Year 2000, Day 215_

The moment you two are in the gardens you begin yelling, heedless of where you are or the fact that it can get you caught. Shock seems to have taken all your common sense with it. 

“This—I never asked you to do this, Loki!”

“You did not have to.”

“That is the—“ You can’t form the words, too busy staring at him like he’s the only person in the world. Which to some might even be romantic but for you is horrifying. Not to mention, as the reality truly sets in, his face is still gleeful like a child waiting to be praised and there is the strong and terrible urge to laugh, “We are married, Loki! By the All Father! Do you even understand what that means?”

He rolls his eyes, “It's not as if he is my father and that would give me any insight.”

“What of the alliance?! This could mean war again!”

“No one would war against and Asgardains princes wife.”

“I—“ You hold up a hand but deflate quickly, annoyed by his ease of thwarting your concerns. Because if he can that means he’d given this idiotic prank some thought, “I actually have no counter argument for that but I am not any less furious with you. Besides, your father will never let this stand, even you know that.”

“But now your ex-fiance will not try anything so foolish again, less he garner the house of Odins wrath.”

“You give Theoric too little credit. Though why it bothers you so I don’t understand”

“You think so little of me? That I would let a friend knowingly die when I could prevent it?” The words are dramatic, his eyes only showing a flicker of irritation, still much to pleased with himself. 

“No, I’m being pragmatic. I’m your latest distraction and I refuse to allow myself to be swayed otherwise.”

“Just because you’ve already been betrayed, you think a prince—“

“I think a child who fakes a marriage would be a terrible person to fall in love with!”

“So I am terrible now?” This time there is a flick of bitter hurt, it makes you backtrack because that wasn’t what you meant at all. The most aggravating part is you _know_ he knows that. Which is the only reason you are able to see the enjoyment light them up quickly after, he is unable to be anything but pleased with himself at the moment. 

“Oh, stop that! I will not fall for the pity act when your eyes laugh so heartily.”

Loki finally lets the laugh out, “Don’t tell me you are not just as happy as I to have thwarted him.”

Your lips quirk and you finally nod but refuse to join his cackles, even as you feel a pained sort of fondness for how foolish the prince is. How much he wishes to impress you. And how much it will hurt when he inevitably breaks your heart after he wins this game of his own making.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 22_

“He did not mean for you to have so much power.”

“The All Father does nothing he does not mean.” You respond blandly without looking at Frigga, “Though I don’t know that he anticipated what it would mean when he essentially cursed me.”

“You think marriage a curse?”

“I think being forced into something I never wanted to be a curse.” 

She nods, as if she’d expected this answer, “I cannot fault you for harboring such feelings, my husband does not always think his punishments through.”

“Yes, I had wondered where Thor got his impulsiveness from.”

That gets a laugh which is enough to ease the tension in the room before you move back to the topic at hand, not wanting to do so but unable to stand tripping over nothing anymore. 

“Do you know what it is he did to me? When he spoke the words? Is that why—”

“The Norns would know more than I.”

You don’t bother to point out that she hasn’t even given you the information she does know because it is clear now that the queen does not wish to make you privy to her secrets. Now, you think, you know where Loki gets it from.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 17_

The queen wraps you in a hug that you accept, needing the comfort and not knowing where else to get it. Her hand cards through your hair, running soothingly down your back as she speaks in a whisper, meant only for your ears. 

“I know you have not asked for this, dearest Sigyn, but why not make the most of the blessing you’ve been given?”

It takes time for the shudders to subside but when they do you ponder her words as you stare about the room emptily until you could make yourself come to a decision. He would likely fight you on it but that didn’t stop from packing your sparse drawers as you called for a maid.

“Bring these to my new room.”

The maid looked like she’d rather do anything else but nodded. You’d make the best of, and you’d make Loki do the same.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 18_

The back of your nightdress is not meant to protect you, which is why you can barely bite back the cry of pain when the rough edge of the pillar cuts open your back. You can feel the bruise forming already when he slams you into again. The shake vicious, violent, and victorious at having caught you alone.

“This is not over, Sigyn.” Theoric growls, leaning in closely. You should yell for help but you can’t because he is still your Theoric, and you can’t help but search for some remainder of the friend you thought you knew. 

“Was it all lies? Even from the first night were you nothing more than a snake in the grass?”

That seems to stop the flow of venom spewing from his lips, eyes scanning your face, and with all the eloquence he can muster, “What?”

“From the beginning did you plan to kill me?”

“You knew.”

“Yes.”

He throws back his head and laughs, “So you married a prince to save yourself? A prince who won’t care for your decrepit little city—“

“Enough.” You say cooly, tearing your eyes away from his face, “That has answered me well enough.”

“Has it?”

“It has.” From the waist of your dress you feel the solid weight of the knife. A precaution you hadn’t wanted to need but it seemed Loki’s paranoia had rubbed off on you for the better. “I told you once, that you had asked too much of me. That night I accused you of wanting to kill me and I should have remembered it. And you, Theoric,” you lean up to kiss him, and he allows it, out of shock or cruel amusement you aren’t sure, and you no longer wish to know, “should have killed me that night.”

His hands fall from your shoulders as he slides to the floor. His blood stains the hem of your dress while your tears stain the top, the dagger a heavy burden in your hands.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 20_

The grove was empty but far from quiet. It seemed as if every bit of nature shouted over each other to be heard and in the center of it all was Loki. You were almost surprised to find him here peacefully as opposed to wrecking havoc but he had brought you there enough times for you to know he must like it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Meditating.”

You sat beside him and look around, the air smelled crisp and clean not fragranced as the manicured gardens and palace were. It reminded you of home but without the harsh scent of metal tanging the air and you wondered how he could find any silence with all the noise—

“Your thoughts are loud. Be silent.”

You stiffen, unable to stop the thin press of your lips, “I can go—“

“I didn’t ask you to go. I asked you to be silent.”

He hadn’t bothered to look at you since you’d arrived but you glared at him all the same before closing your eyes yourself. It took several breaths for you to still your thoughts and when your eyes open you let out a little shriek of shock. 

Around you lines like fine threads of silk wound around, flowing from one thing to another, there shades magnifying in the sun like a wrathful rainbow until you slammed your eyes shut but the images did not go away. You could feel yourself begin to breathe quicker, the soft sound of movement to your left making you flinch when cool hands covered your eyes. A soft haze of green fell over you like a cloth blindfold as he whispered in your ear, “What do you see?”

“Webs or silk,” you gasped out, “rope, I don’t understand but it is everywhere, covers everything!”

“Hm.” He removed his hands but the feeling of being blindfolded didn’t leave, “I will have Mother speak with you.”

“Loki?”

“It seems the All Father has made you more than what you were, I’d suspected but I couldn’t be sure.”

“Is that why you were out here?”

“Your magic leaves a mark. It was interfering.”

In the back of you mind you wonder exactly what it was interfering with but that is not your immediate concern as you gaze up into the prince’s amused eyes. “I have no magic.”

“You _had_ no magic.” He retorts cheerfully before he is gone, leaving you to stare into the clearing in shock but knowing the truth of his words in your bones.

* * *

_Year 2001, Day 3_

The body is decaying and not what you remember him being at all but the sight of it makes your breath hitch. You feel Loki's eyes on you but you can’t meet them. You don’t have to though because his grip is so tight around your waist it is as if he is trying to crush the life out of you. Sif lays the body at the All Fathers feet.

How in the realms had she found it?

You mouth parts in early denial but Loki beats you to it, voice far too loud in the silent hall, “I thought I buried that better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're about to delve more into readers powers next chapter so make sure you let me know what you think. Also, more depth being added to Loki and readers relationship in the next few chapters, the Norns will make an appearance soon as well to get the ball of action in motion and then we'll be onto the Thor movie, whoo!


	5. That which binds

_Year 1999, Day 304_

“Please! I have no where left to turn, you cannot let it end like this!”

“We only record the path you are on, there is nothing that can be done to sway the hearts of men from their efforts to reach Valhalla.”

You want to break things, to scream but there is no way they would cave. They are unmoved by the plights of those beneath them. There is nothing to offer…except, “My life, my life for my home. _Please._ ”

“You life is not enough to balance for the whole.”

“Then what should I give you to stop this?!”

“We cannot stop it.”

The Norns speak as if they would say more but the rest of the words you want to fill in the damning silence might be only in your head. Wishful thinking. 

“But I can?”

They smile then, it is wide and not promising. It could be beautiful but the horrors they weave will not allow it to be. They do not answer, only continue to weave, continue to move threads around the endless tapestry that makes no sense to your eyes. And no matter how many more questions you ask, no matter how many more times you plead they simply continue their work, ignoring you until you are forced to stumble away. 

When you look back, desperate for one more attempt…they are already gone.

* * *

_Year 2004, Day 349_

“And what is this, wife?”

You straighten and spin, eyes wide, “I’m not done!”

A look of shock crosses his face when the door slams in his face magically right before he simply walks through it with a look of mild amusement. 

“You are ruining my fun.” You mutter sheepishly, unable to be as serious as you’d like and nervous of his reception. It had seemed like a good idea but now you were not so sure. It was hard to gauge with Loki but you at least wanted to try. Wanted…you refuse to finish the thought for now and with a sigh you open the palm of your hands, “A birthday gift.”

“A birthday gift.” He repeats dully, looking at the gleaming blade. 

“I—“ You clear your throat, and draw yourself up to your full height, refusing to be cowed by his expressionless face, “I had it forged days ago and was finishing the charms, I hadn’t thought you’d be back so soon and I wasn’t supposed to be in here when you retur—“

“Speaking of in here, dearest, how did you break my wards?”

“Magic?” You question, wondering what wards he spoke of as he eyes you. Looking at you with more interest than he’d ever shown previously. As if you are something more than he had previously thought, something aside from a situation he was forced to deal with. “Have I…overstepped?”

“No.”

“Then I will take my leave…pleasant dreams.” Eager to escape the awkward atmosphere you scurry to the door but it does not open and you feel more than hear Loki approach, hands winding around your waist and pulling you to him in some form of backwards hug, chin resting on your head. 

“…thank you.”

The words “you are welcome” are said to empty air as you find yourself falling back onto your own bed, Loki and his room vanished, the dagger gone.

* * *

_Year 2001, Day 6_

The lie eats away at you, especially when he refuses to tell you what his punishment was. Only grinning and patting your head as if you were a child before gallivanting off with Thor. You should have said something, you could still say something but fear weighs you down. Fear and judgement. Your father had still not spoken to you since he'd learned of all your plans. Though the war had stopped they had not been grateful but angry, more so now that they thought this some horrible game you had devised from the beginning. That you had conspired with the Prince of Lies to ruin two homes...you close your eyes. You might as well have, you think sickly, homesickness mingling with what you know to be finality. You will not go back. Not from either of your lies.

And perhaps that it is punishment enough.

* * *

_Year 2002, Day 230_

Watching them get ready for yet another "mission" makes you feel both queasy and bored. Though they are all warriors in their own right, you've come to notice that Loki seems to come back with the most injuries, worst are the times when he doesn't. Those times carry nothing but hard looks all around, angered silences, and thinly veiled accusations. Still, you never interfered. 

You watched from the sidelines, the quiet wife. You frowned, at least you could study in peace, without your idiot husbands jokes but...

“I could teach you to fight.” The words make you tense, eyeing Sif who did not even look at you as she spoke, cleaning her sword with care usually only reserved for her lover. 

“I’d rather not." She seems surprised by your refusal, her eyes flicking briefly to your face to gauge the truth of the statement. You give a little shake of your head trying to sort your own thoughts about the quick refusal, “You are…trained for war. You fight battles you choose to fight. I was never given such a choice, I was born into war and watched it destroy nearly everything I love, my decision is one of the few I have been given and I wish to keep it.”

The two of you watch the boys rough house, falling off horses, bruised egos and bodies before they even leave. 

“You don’t have to find war to know to defend yourself.” She says after several silent minutes and you glance up at her in surprise and she shrugs, sheathing her sword, “My offer stands.”

You don't reply, just watch them leave silently before turning sharply back to the castle unsure if you will answer her when she returns.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 191_

“Touch them.”

“Can I?”

“You can.”

It felt like nothing in your hands but you knew it was there. Could feel it like a second skin over your palm as you clenched your fist. It fought you at first, giving into the hum of your magic as it pressed around the line, squeezing it until you could feel it being crushed into nothing in your fist.

“What did I do?”

“You’ve broken the bond.” Fridge spoke calmly even as your own heart stuttered in horror that you couldn’t voice, it only grew worse as the dogs growled at each other now. Each ready to rip the other from limb to limb.

“Now put it back.”

“I—“

“Do it, daughter, I know you can. Trust me.”

Though the words were soft, subtle command wove through them, unconsciously making you reach out as you had before. They flopped before you, snipped thread, limp and lying on the floor like a broken toy. But it seemed like nothing this time to touch them, to bring them together, holding them in that same tight grip but this time when your hand opens they are a single thread again.

As they were when you first entered the dogs curl around each other, tongues lolling happily. You stare in disgust at your own hands. “What is this?”

“That, my daughter, is what you are finding out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, at one point I had only four chapters for this. Now I have like one or five more planned, whoops. Hope those of you reading are enjoying it :)


	6. The lies we tell ourselves

_Year 2007, Day 202_

Your knees give way and you shake your head, tears spilling freely as you back away from the Queen. “Why—why would you tell me this? What purpose does this serve? How _could_ you?”

The final words come out the quietest as the Queen kneels beside you, “Because I have seen—“

“I do not care what you’ve seen! This will break him and you know it!" So many more things make sense. You choke on your fear, bile rising, "Oh gods, you knew—“

“I _would never_ hurt my son—“

“Nor would you protect him as you should!”

“That is what a wife is for.” She replies gently and you shake your head. Its too much. Even now this would—coupled with the announcement—

“He can never know.” You gasp out, “If he finds out—“

“I am aware of the damage my son can do when cornered or hurt. That is why I have given you the tools to help him when I cannot.”

* * *

_Year 2001, Day 49_

The Queen nods as if she had expected this, voicing her thoughts while yours swirled in confusion, “Fertility and bonds, though my husband did not mean to gift his.”

“Why fertility?”

“I’ve given it to you.”

“But I don’t understand why, Mother-in-Law, you do nothing without reason.”

“Then there is a reason.”

“That is not an answer.”

The conversation is over without answers, something you’ve grown used to when wedged between the Queen and her sons. One who always knows more than he should and one who never cares enough to know what he should. 

Without missing a beat you simply begin to recite the spells once more, waiting for the praise of a job well done and keeping your own council on this thrice damned families secrets. She’ll tell you in time, she always does.

* * *

_Year 2005, Day 215_

“What is this?”

“Sleiphnir.”

“I asked what not who.” You retort with coo at the end, unable to resist taking the foal from him with a smile as you cradle it. You eye the extra legs warily as Loki continues to smile the usual shit eating grin of his that says he is very proud of himself while you dodge a stray hoof. But your silence and refusal to play whatever game has him giving you an answer finally.

“He is your new mount to be.”

“I can’t ride, Loki.” You say in exasperation but he only grins at you boyishly and you raise your brows, “Or is it that I can’t yet?”

“How intelligent you are, wife.”

He pecks your temple then saunters away before a quick bolt of panic runs through you and you spin to face Loki, “Wait! Loki! What do I do with him? Loki don’t you dare leave me with him! Loki!”

But only his laughter rings in the air, caressing you before he vanishes and you are truly alone with the foal, its eyes glaring up at you like this is your fault.

* * *

_Year 2007, Day 300_

They are old and young. 

The contradiction is both startling and horrific, making you unable to turn away as you stare at them. It is like watching a star die. 

“Tell me. Explain what she will not, you already know why I am here.” You toss the offering at their feet. “Explain all of this.”

But the Norns, just as before, only grin. They wave their tapestry, binding it in a way even your new gifts cannot. Yet, your gift allows you to see, to follow the little lines you care for, reading what is written out with horror. How much the Queen knew and didn't and how much you wish you had not seen the damnable thing at all.

“Why? This means even your end! I don’t understand.”

“You are not meant to understand.”

Violent, vicious, varying degrees of rage wash over you, “I will rip this apart. You cannot stop me.”

“Have we ever stopped you child?”

They hadn’t. They had only worn that same smile and vanished in that same manner. It brought only the terrifying thought that they were in charge of nothing anymore than you were. Simply dancing along webs none of you could control as the universe itself kept spinning them.


	7. Worry vs want

_Year 2006, Day 178_

You froze, staring at the snake in your hands in confusion, words dying on your lips. You had swore it was your prince by the way it had responded to your words. Had plucked it from your bed and wandered the castle chatting like a fool but there were Loki and Thor, wrestling on the ground aggressively.

When they finished Loki came up to you amused, “What is that, wife?”

You hold the snake near his face and he raises a brow while you can only stare at it and think how strange it is that their eyes are so similar. 

“It’s you.”

“It is not.” Thor has wisely kept back from the snake and your husband, who looks anything but amused at the comment, and laughs loud enough to shake the ground. 

“I meant, I thought it was you, it seemed to understand me and it looks just like your snake form. I mean, side by side you could even be its mother!”

“That is not funny.” Loki hisses as his brother laughs louder and snake coils down your arm, Loki’s eyeing it warily. “And you realize that snake is dangerous, do you not?”

“He hasn’t hurt me yet.”

“You’re going to keep it.”

“Call it an early anniversary gift.” Loki rolls his eyes but you know he does not mind the creature so much as he minded your comments. Though he likes the snake slightly less when Thor insists to all that will listen that you and Loki have given birth to a snake.

* * *

_Year 2010, Day 95_

“Hello.”

This time you offer them no offerings but still they smile. You wonder if they already knew what you were about to do.

“Wife of the Liar.”

“I fear you’ve woven things I cannot abide by.”

“Will you not beg us to fix it this time, she who would be Queen?”

“My husbands plans are not my own.”

“But you have plans.”

You don’t answer. For the whole of the conversation you have been moving forward, close enough to see those wretched lines again, close enough to rip them apart. You can’t help the angry laugh that leaves your lips as you answer, hands reaching out to shred the tapestry.

“I do.”

And then all is dark.

* * *

_Year 2006, Day 291_

“Loki! Loki Odinson, when I find you—“

“Come now, wife, such a simple prank has driven you to anger.” 

You spin to face him, “Husband, you give me back my clothes right this instant or I will—“

“But you look much better with them off.” Even as you roll your eyes, you can feel your neck flush. Liar though he may be he cannot lie to you anymore, such is your agreement the magic telling you as much. “And there is only one thing I wish you to wear now.”

“It’d had better be a dress.” 

“Better than.”

“Then prove it.”

“Close your eyes and give me your hand.” Tired of his games your eyes fall shut easily, hand flicking out impatiently and missing the look of genuine surprise cross his features, “Such trust.”

“Loki, for the love of the gods would you just—“

“Other hand.”

With a sigh you hold out your left hand with as much patience as the first, flush growing as he caresses your hand before you feel him tap your fourth finger, the chill of metal flashing your eyes open in surprise, “What is this?”

“I never got my wife a ring.” You find your eyes watering almost instantly, not sure if it is because you feel it to be a joke or from happiness or from some other emotion you refuse to name. “Sigyn, with this ring you are truly mine.”

“And if I don’t want the ring?”

“And here I thought it would please you to own a ring of Sifs hair but if you wish you may take if off without fear.” Loki says smoothly, finally releasing your hand but you grab his back and tug him to you. You know you won’t but you hadn’t wanted to gauge his reaction, the quick answer telling you he was lying. It made you smile, pulling him to the bed. You don’t care whose room it is and feeling the anger you’ve held for months finally give way into something like forgiveness. The whole time your eye rest on the ring in vicious satisfaction but also something like hop again. Perhaps you two may work after all. 

“I find I’m undressed and chilled, Loki, come and keep me warm.”

* * *

_Year 2007, Day 300_

“Frigga.”

“You are still angry with me.” It is not a question and she knows the answer, you are so far past angry it borders into uncaring. 

“I am beyond such grudges.”

“I see my son rubs off on you.”

You laugh, “If I have gathered anything from this family it is that it is you all hold the same lies.”

“Sigyn…”

“I’ve come to tell you that you are right. I cannot replace you and though it should be you protecting him I will do it in your stead.” You pause, “And that I think in some ways you are worse than Odin, at least he is honest in his distaste.”

That makes her flinch, her own features smoothing out but you take a page from your husbands book and pop away before she can reply.

* * *

_Year 2002, Day 199_

“Afraid of a little swim, Loki? Or just afraid your wife will see how little you really are?” Fandrals words were teasing but you flashed him a dirty look until Thor ‘accidentally’ hip checked the blonde into the water. You shot him a grin in thanks that the large oaf returned eagerly. 

Loki on the other hand is entirely naked before Fandral comes back up, “I assure you I lack in know areas. Why don’t you come out and prove your boasts?”

Both you and Sif roll your eyes as you swim farther away from the men, the woman calling out loudly after them.

“None of you have anything to boast about!”

You laugh as all of them protest heatedly, enjoying the peace you have for once and it distracts you from your worries of you and Loki and ever secret Frigga taunts you with and--then Sif nudges you and whispers, “I’ll have you know that Hogun trumps both Princes.”

The laughter that follows her statement makes the five men hurry back into the water before you each spill all their secrets.


	8. The Passing Days

_Year 2001, Day 310_

You think you hear hissing before a cold hand is wrapped around your neck. It does not tighten but the words hissed out your ear make you freeze in fear all the same.

“Doing a little spying?”

“Loki!” But recognizing his voice does not soothe your nerves because you’ve never heard his ire directed at you like that before. For all the whispers of the servants he is still warrior and a dangerous one at that. “What—“

“How did you get in here and what have you done to my wards?”

“There were no wards! I swear it! I did not even know there was a room here now will you—“ you shove his hand away and he lets you but his gaze is till frigid as he speaks over you. 

“What do you mean no wards?”

“Frigga said to practice on the cob webs so I did! I swear I did not know.” You’re scared but you’ve both managed a tentative companionship, you do not want to throw it away over silly magics you didn’t even want. 

“My mother.” Loki says blandly with a sigh, taking another step back and you let out a sigh of release, “Of course she did.”

“Yes, she wanted me to find…bonds to practice on. I told her these were the thickest. I was going to put them back.”

“I was not accusing you, I know my mother finds this amusing but now you can break magical bonds as well.”

“I didn’t know!” You shriek, any worry over him being consumed by your confusion at your own powers. “It goes too far, I don’t understand any of this and you and your mother wretch me around like I’m a toy!”

He smiles at this and it is ofter than his others, eyes calm, lines in his face smoothing, “I was not trying to anger you, wife. I was impressed, perhaps jealous…” he tilts his head at you, “perhaps worried but not angry.”

“Liar!”

He just smiles.

* * *

_Year 2002, Day 10_

“Lady Sif,” you nod curtly, she returned it though her gaze is curious, “will you be busy today or may I steal some of your precious time as the Princes so often do.”

You hadn’t meant the words to come out so bitterly but it isn’t fair that you should be bound so tightly to your husband while he stares at Sif like she is the sun to his stars. You close your eyes briefly as she tenses but her words are even tempered.

“Unfortunately for them I will be busy with you.”

“Wonderful!” You clap cheerlessly, “I was hoping you would agree to train me.”

“I did offer.”

You nod, letting your hands fall to your side uncomfortably and noting the pleasure she gains in the karma considering you were the one to act so childishly first. After several unnecessary minutes of staring she nods her head to the wrack of weapons.

“Pick one and meet me in the yard.”

* * *

_Year 2003, Day 200_

It is rare for you to be by yourself but if this goes wrong you don’t want casualties. 

Taking a deep breath you close then open your eyes. The shift in want responds to your magic, the bonds appear bright and tangled as always. But they no longer send you spiraling down their endless links.

There is only two in particular you need.

With something like excitement you reach for them and tug. The resounding crash is not something you had truly expected to hear and it makes you jump back. A pleased smile is already pulling at your lips as you watch the pillars crumble away.

It seemed Frigga was right. A bond was a bond and so long as something was held by another you could make it or…—you watched everyone rush out to inspect the chaos, giving Loki a cheerful wave when he showed up at your side—break it.

* * *

_Year 2000, Day 360_

You and Loki owed each other nothing more than the mess you had made but it still confused you to see a woman in his chambers. You blink, slightly annoyed but not hurt. You knew better but it doesn’t stop the apologies from flowing even though it is she who should apologize.

“I didn’t realize you were…indisposed. Please tell Lok—my husband I will return later.”

“So angry you will only use a title?” She simpers and turns to face you. Though you refused to be cowed or compare yourself to his bedmate you cannot stop the appraisal you give her before meeting amused green eyes. 

“And what makes you think I am angry?”

“Wife,” she begins, sauntering toward you as you frown in confusion, “you have a habit of doing so when you are angry.”

“I am not your wife.” 

“Is this form so different from my true?” She leans down and you step back, embarrassment and ire rising as her arm curves around your back to pull you into her. Her lips lean to your ear and whispering mischievously, “Am I not as attractive? Does nothing strike you as familiar?”

“Too familiar by half! Let me—“ You pause in your tirade as the smell of cologne hits you and full breasts smooth into familiar chest lines, “You insufferable bastard!”

His laughter is all you feel rumble through before he steps away, “Were you jealous?”

“Only in your dreams.” You snap, flushing and feeling foolish. It’s becoming an irritatingly common occurrence around him.

* * *

_Year 2009, Day 30_

“Like this.” Loki murmurs, reaching around from behind to shove you the proper motion. Though you don’t want to you lean back into him.

“Where have you been?”

“Speaking with the Allfather.”

“And what news has he brought.” 

But you already know what news.

“My brother is to be king.”

“Mores the pity for us all.”

“Hm.”

He continues to help you until the ball of fire is lit, delight thrumming through you even as you know it will all fall even more than it has been. You just want to enjoy the sensation of his arms.

* * *

_Year 2008, Day 160_

“No.”

“Loki! He’ll be lonely!”

“He is a reptile!”

“He’s just a baby!”

“He will not stay in our bed a day more!”

“Why not?! Is is not just your bed!”

“The damned thing tried to strangle me!”

“It was a hug!”

The two of you continue on for several minutes before a large tail smacks you in the face and neither of you has come up with a way to untangle yourself from Jörmungandr. You groan and flop back, refusing to look at your husbands smug face.

“Fine, he is to sleep with Sleipnir.”


End file.
